


August

by RebaK1tten



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha Peter, Discussion of Children, Future fics, M/M, Married Peter and Stiles, Omega Stiles, Peter deserves nice things, heat week, lots of food talk, preparing for heat, third gender omega
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-04 22:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11564397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebaK1tten/pseuds/RebaK1tten
Summary: Peter and Stiles plan for Stiles' annual heat. And discuss the future.





	August

Peter glances up from his book and watches his mate pace around the living room. He goes from window to bookshelf to fireplace, dragging his fingers on everything, stopping only to rearrange a picture or two along the way. “Do you think you might perch somewhere anytime soon?”

“Huh?” Stiles asks, and looks around as though surprised Peter’s there. “Oh, sorry. I don’t know what it is, I just can’t… I don’t feel settled. I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin.”

Picking up his phone, Peter just quietly ‘hmms’ and then smiles. “Darling, did you realize it’s almost August?”

“August? No, but so what? What does that… Oh!” Stiles gasps, and then grins back at Peter. “It’s almost August!”

“Yes, dear, it is. So I think the reason you’re so anxious is…”

“My heat! I’m in pre-heat!” He sits on Peter’s lap, his knees beside Peter’s hips, locking him on the chair. “Wow, I forgot about it. I mean, I didn’t have one last year, right? It’s been forever!”

“No, unfortunately, last year you were in the hospital almost dying with a collapsed lung and broken ribs,” Peter says, wrapping his arms around Stiles’ waist. “So you spent your entire heat week sedated.”

“I wasn’t going to die, Peter,” Stiles answers, rolling his eyes. “You’re such a drama queen. It was just a minor injury in the scheme of things.”

“Let’s agree to disagree then.” Peter pulls Stiles closer and kisses him softly. “And now that we know why you can’t settle, let’s talk about your heat.”

“Wonderful! This is going to be great, I love heat week! Okay, you need to make me that four cheese lasagna, and also don’t forget pizzas. And don’t get anchovies on them!”

Peter smacks Stiles’ butt and says, “Once. That was one time, Stiles, years ago and I didn’t even order the pizzas!”

“You must have smelled them and you let me eat one.” He shudders dramatically and says, “Double cheese with sausage and mushrooms, please.”

“I know, I know. Maybe a meatloaf? That’s easy to heat up for sandwiches, too.”

“Are you writing this down? You should be taking notes,” Stiles says and grabs Peter’s phone, handing it to him. “Do you need me to repeat anything?”

“No, I think I’ve got it,” Peter says, shaking his head and using one hand to type in the phone.

“Should I check it?” Stiles asks, turning his head as Peter moves the phone away.

“I think I’m capable of making a grocery list,” Peter says, trying to keep the snark out of his voice. It’s pre-heat after all, and his mate is anxious. “What else?”

Stiles gets up and resumes pacing, this time with a smile on his face. Peter sees how his cheeks are flushed and eyes bright and wonders how he didn’t notice sooner. Stiles always smells wonderful to him, but as he gets closer to his heat, it’s intensified.

“Okay, umm, mac and cheese with ham and peas.” He points at Peter and says, “With the yellow cheese, none of your fancy pants white stuff.”

“Velveeta, Stiles. Go ahead and call it Velveeta,” he sighs and adds something to the list on his phone. “I’m thinking we should have some yogurt, you like that for breakfast when you’re in heat.”

“No cherries!”

“I know, no cherries.” Peter types some more, small smile on his face.

“Because you know,” Stiles nods to himself and says, “Their texture is like eyeballs.”

“Of course, darling, I remember you spitting one at me. Yogurt and ice cream, I’m sure.” Peter gets up and goes into the kitchen with Stiles trailing after him. He opens the fridge and freezer, looking at what’s already there.

Stiles ducks under his arms and stares into the freezer. “Oh, yeah, ice cream sandwiches. You know the ones I mean?”

“Um hm.” Peter gently moves Stiles to the side so he can shut the freezer. “Ones that a twelve year old would want.”

“No teasing,” Stiles says, turning and resting his head on Peter’s shoulder. “It’s what I want.”

“I know, love, I’ll get you what you like,” Peter kisses his head and pets his back, looking over Stiles’ shoulder into the fridge. “We have an extra case of water. I’ll get some juice and… maybe twelve-packs of Seven-Up, and cream soda and root beer, that should be enough.”

“Mountain Dew?” Stiles asks, turning around in Peter’s arms, eyes all big and begging.

“Too much caffeine.” He looks in the fridge again and does a quick calculation in his head. “Six days probably, 36 cans. That’s six a day, even you can’t drink that much.”

“You’ll drink some, too,” Stiles says, moving to look in other cabinets. “Oh and you need to make brownies and blondies with no nuts and…” he thinks a minute and continues, “cheesecake! I like rich sweet things like that.”

“Okay, just plain, right?” he asks and gets a nod back. “Does that cover it? No, how about some fruit?”

“No apples! Too crunchy. Crunchy upsets me in heats,” Stiles says over his shoulder. “Oranges, strawberries – oh and raspberries!”

“You do love the raspberries,” Peter says, kissing his mate’s neck. “I’ll get a few pints. If you don’t eat them right away, I can throw them into a smoothie or something.”

“Oh, and get stuff for grilled cheese sandwiches, just in case. I like those all the time,” Stiles says, tilting his head to give the wolf room to scent him. “Wonder bread and …”

“Those weird plastic-wrapped American cheese things you like. I’ll get an extra pound of butter. I really don’t know what you do with all of it, but I’ll need it for baking.”

“Chicken strips! The ones from Safeway, not Raleys,” Stiles orders, sighing as Peter nips on his neck.

“And ranch dressing,” Peter mutters. He lifts up his head and says, “Oh, I should get a couple of steaks for myself.”

“Okay, but just…”

Peter interrupts, holding out his hand. “I know, believe me. I’ll eat them while you’re sleeping and then brush my teeth and use mouthwash before I come back to you.”

“Sorry, it’s just when I’m in heat –“

“Blood smells bother you, I understand. I’m not making that mistake twice.” Peter shakes his head and says, “You only need to kick me in the face once and I’ll remember.”

Stiles steps back, gasping. “I kicked you in the face? Really?”

“My fault, I guess,” Peter answers, pulling him close again. “I ate the steak and came back into the bedroom and found you on your knees with your cute little ass in the air, showing me your wet little cunt and I leaned over to kiss you. You snarled and donkey kicked me in the face. Broke my nose, actually.”

“I am so sorry! I don’t remember doing that, but I’m so sorry!” Stiles exclaims, peppering Peter’s face with kisses.

“Don’t worry about it, obviously I healed. You’re not the first one to kick me in the face, and knowing me, you won’t be the last.” He kisses Stiles’ cheek and says, “So does that cover food and beverages?”

“Sounds like it. Subject to my whims, of course,” Stiles answers, with a small grin on his face as he moves back into the living room. “I am sorry though. About the face.”

“Forgiven and forgotten. And I am familiar with your heat whims; that’s why we’ll have a gallon of ranch dressing,” Peter says, following him and looking at the phone. He sits back in his chair, putting the phone on the end table. “Let’s see… the black-out blinds are good. I’ll double check the lights to make sure they’re as dim as you like and check the candles to be sure we have the right scents for you.”

“Vanilla, lavender and lilac only,” Stiles says, nodding again like a bobble headed doll. “None of those weird fruity things.”

“I have to agree, the strawberry and coconut ones were…”

“Disgusting,” Stiles finishes for him. “Remember the tropical one? That was the worst. But anyway, I’ll put some things in the Netflix queue so I can have something up while I’m trying to fall asleep.”

“I don’t know how that’s effective, but good idea. We’ll watch something while you eat.” Peter sighs and thinks for another minute. “Oh, your heat blankets. We may need to replace one, it’s up to you.”

Stiles sits forward, concern on his face. “Which one?” He gets very possessive over his nesting materials.

“The yellow one. Sorry, but,” he says, shrugging and shows his claws. “It didn’t survive last time. But you have the purple one and the dark blue one and… the light blue one. Is that enough?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” he says, but doesn’t sound very positive. “We should take them out and put them on the bed. Then I’ll decide.”

“Yes, start to get a good smell on them,” Peter agrees. “Oh, and replace your sex pillow if you want to. That was a casualty of the bloody nose.”

Stiles shakes his head and shrugs. “Really, really sorry. But yeah, I like the pillow under my butt.”

“Not a problem, l’m still amazingly handsome. What else do we need?” Peter asks and smiles as Stiles   melts into his lap, resting his head on Peter’s shoulder.

“I think that might be it from the store. You should start wearing some henleys and don’t wash them.” Stiles says, relaxing on Peter, who will always take care of him. “We’ll go shopping over the next few days?”

Peter nods, kissing the top of Stiles’ head. “You know, there are some couples who use their preheat and heats to become closer and strengthen their bonds.”

“That’s what we’ll do. We like shopping together, it’s our thing. Macy’s is your happy place.” Stiles gives Peter a few kisses on his jaw and says, “Besides, I’ll help you cook. I’ll be your sous chef and cut stuff up. Like the Velveeta - I know it creeps you out.”

“This is true, thank you,” Peter answers. He pushes his face into Stiles neck, inhaling deeply. There’s something that’s gone slightly off about his scent and Peter stays quiet until Stiles is ready to talk. He’s learned to be patient with Stiles and wait him out.

“So anyway, a question for you,” Stiles says after a couple of quiet minutes. “What would you think about me stopping taking my pills.”

“What pills?” Peter asks. Not that Stiles takes a lot, but let’s be sure.

Stiles always gets more cuddly as his heat approaches and he now burrows into Peter’s arms. “My birth control pills. What would you think about me stopping taking them?”

“I think, after they’re out of your system, you’d have a 50-50 chance of getting pregnant when we have sex. And during heat sex, probably a 90 percent chance,” Peter answers, quoting the well known facts for omega’s pregnancy.

“Aaaaaand your opinion about this?” Stiles asks, keeping his arms around Peter, who’s gone still.

Peter stays quiet for long moment, long enough that Stiles is about to ask if he’s okay. “I think – I think it was just about a year ago that you were in a hospital, possibly dying. It’s a bit hard to think of you pregnant after that.”

“Peter,” Stiles says, pushing back so he can look his mate in the eyes. “I wasn’t going to die, it was, and I hate to say this, a pretty routine injury. I wasn’t really in danger.”

“It felt critical. You’re a human and…”

Stiles snorts and moves so he’s back to straddling Peter’s legs. “Argh! Yes, I’m a human, but really we’re not made of glass. And if I were pregnant, of course I’d be more careful and not run with the wolves. And neither would our child.”

“It’s just so,” Peter starts and shakes his head. “I worry about you constantly and a child? It’s not that I haven’t thought of you with our pup in your big, round belly. But our life, little fox? Our life and living here and my past…”

Stiles cups his hands around Peter’s face, making the wolf look at him. “Peter, listen to me for a minute and let me talk, okay? Peter, everything can be scary all the time, if we let it be. Humans get hurt but you finally agreed to marry one. Having children can be scary, but they are for everyone, everywhere. And houses can burn down, but that’s not a reason to stay in an apartment. None of those are reasons to delay our lives.” He looks to be sure Peter’s still listening and hasn’t tuned out, locking himself in to protect himself. “Peter, you deserve nice things. You deserve to be happy. You deserve children if you want them, and a spouse who adores you and a house for you and me and our kids and a dog named Oliver. I’m 25 and we’ve been together for years and I want this. To be a family with kids.”

Peter’s lips twitch and he raises an eyebrow. “You’ve already named the dog?”

“Well, yeah. I haven’t named the kids yet, but there’s two. We have a four bedroom-three bathroom house and it has a big enough back yard for a pool. With a gate around it, so the kids – or drunks - don’t fall in. We get the master bedroom and each kid has their own room and then there’s an extra in case one of our pack shouldn’t drive themselves home.” He leans forward and kisses Peter gently. “What do you think? Is that something you might want?”

“I don’t want a small, yippy dog,” Peter says, rubbing his face in Stiles’ neck.

“No, but not one that’s too big either,” Stiles answers, scent brightening.

Peter nips his neck, feeling Stiles shudder. “No, not too big, so he doesn’t hurt the children. Medium. And a rescue.”

“Of course,” Stiles mutters, tilting his head back, and shutting his eyes. “It has to be one that likes you.”

“It could be a girl dog then; we’ll name her Ruby.”

Stiles wiggles in Peter’s lap, his warm omega scent filling Peter’s head. “That’s nice, I like that.”

“The dog or this?” Peter asks, mouthing at Stiles’ Adam’s apple.

“Both.”

Peter stops and leans back. “I’m still wondering about having our family here. You’re the one who says Beacon Hills is a hell mouth.”

“It is kind of, but it’s home. Hale territory.” He rubs his hands through his hair and says, “If it gets bad, we get the pack together and move everyone to Yakima, Washington or something.”

“Hmm. Interesting idea,” Peter says, watching Stiles’ shirt pulls up, showing his taut belly. “But there’s already a pack there.”

“Yeah, the Hortons, right? We have an alliance with them.” Stiles snuggles back into Peter’s arms, resting his head on his mate’s shoulder. “If it gets bad then, you, me, the kids and my dad go up there and ask for asylum.”

“Possible. Or we stay here and work through it.”

“It is our territory. Plus there’s the dog to consider,” Stiles says, kissing along Peter’s jaw. “You know, if I have a heat coming up, maybe we should give it a practice run? Make sure we still know what we’re doing? Find positions where I don’t kick you?”

Peter picks up Stiles in a bridal carry, getting a muffled giggle. “Darling, you’re full of good ideas tonight.”

**Author's Note:**

> There was a post on Tumblr saying that most all ABO fics discuss the couple getting together, but not their life after. So I wrote this. It started fluffy and then this.


End file.
